Made Up Stories
by etherealfirefly
Summary: A short Dramione one-shot based on the song "Made Up Stories" by Go:Audio.


He loved her. It took him ages to finally admit it, although it was only to himself. He supposed the revelation was a long time coming – after all, they had been in a relationship for more than a year.

With this admission, he felt that his world was set back aright. He was no longer constantly doubting himself, wondering if what he was doing was acceptable to her. He stopped continually wondering how his parents would react. Now that he had accepted it, they could do nothing.

After some deliberating, he decided that he could tell her. He had to make sure she knew. He didn't want to spend any more time in doubt, in second guesses and lost chances.

He knew she would be home after dinner on Friday. She always was; it was her time for reading and relaxation. So on Friday evening, he Apparated to her doorstep in wizarding London. He let himself in using the key she had given him. In his left hand, he clutched a spellbook that she hadn't read before. It was a gift for her.

The front room was empty, just as he expected it. She'd be in her bedroom, reading a book with her mangy Kneazle-cat curled up next to her. He took off his shoes and placed them neatly under the hat stand upon which he draped his cloak. The book still in his hand, he walked through the flat toward her room. The door was ajar.

As he neared the door, he heard quiet sighs and grunts. The confusion on his face quickly morphed into horror, as he reached the door and could plainly see what was going on. Her wavy brown locks were splayed on the pillows, and he saw her naked thigh as she lifted it. Limbs were tangled together, and then there was a sudden flash of bright orange hair.

He turned his back on the scene. Stiffly, he walked back the way he had come, stopping only to leave the book on her coffee table. In a daze, he tied his shoes back on and wrapped his cloak back around him.

He left the door unlocked.

There was a knock at his bedroom door. He hunched lower in his sheets, refusing to turn to look at her.

"Draco?" she called as she conjured some light.

He gave a low "harrumph," but otherwise ignored her. She took a step into the room, and he flipped onto his back in the bed.

"If you don't mind," he said coldly, "I'm trying to sleep. Get rid of that light, and close the door." He burrowed back into the sheets and, once again, turned his back to her.

"Come on, Draco," she said. "What's wrong?"

He bit back a harsh retort, and tried to get back to sleep. He didn't want her here, to remind him of what he'd seen. He wanted to pretend that it was a dream – a nightmare – and that it wasn't real. She hadn't slept with that _other_ man, when she was in a relationship with him. She wasn't here, as if nothing had changed. As if she hadn't slept with someone else. He had trusted her. He _loved_ her.

The light flickered out, but he felt her weight as she sat down at the foot of his bed.

"How was work yesterday?" he asked, his voice carefully cold and devoid of emotion.

"It was fine. Lots of filing and making sure that the department was up-to-date with the newest regulations," she replied, ignoring his attitude. "Then after, Harry and Ron and I went out for dinner."

"What did you read?"

"Hmm? Oh, I reread Pride and Prejudice."

She didn't bring up the fact she had slept with Ron that evening, and he didn't bring up the book he had left her.

He knew that she could have read that book she loved so much, even if _Ron_ had stayed the night. He thought the name in his mind, and even then it was full of poison and hate. He knew that he hadn't asked her about her sleeping with Ron, but he was disappointed when she didn't offer the information herself. Even before he'd been in a relationship with her, he'd always known her as the _good_ girl, full of justness and fairness and morals. She should have been wracked with guilt. But, apparently, she didn't feel for him the way he felt for her.

Although the coward in him wanted him to keep quiet and to ignore her, some of her bravery had rubbed off on him. With great reluctance, he turned to look at her. The faint light from the still-open door reflected on her hair and turned it a bright gold. That same light made its way to her eyes and made them sparkle. He took a moment just to stare in wonder at her beauty.

Finally, he closed his eyes and said, "Hermione, I love you." He paused and heard her gasp in surprise. "But I can't forgive you. Get the hell out."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes:<p>

First story! Definitely an accomplishment.


End file.
